


Say My Name

by starlitcities



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: It's just smut so read it and sin, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, iwaoi - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 21:51:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3826303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlitcities/pseuds/starlitcities
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iwaizumi is about to flip a pencil at the top of his head, but he notices a slight blooming of color on the portion of Oikawa's cheek—the portion he can see—and it dawns on him that Oikawa might actually be embarrassed to use his first name. Normally Iwaizumi would normally leave it be; Oikawa isn't ready, that's okay. </p>
<p>But some part of Iwaizumi decides that he has a way to sate Oikawa's boredom, and earn himself a nice treat all in the same instance. Something devilish swirls in his abdomen, and he pushes back from his chair, motioning towards the brunet beside him. “Oikawa, I'm gonna take a break.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say My Name

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted an excuse to write this, I'm always in an Iwaoi mood.
> 
> This is actually sparked from one of [Viria's Pieces](http://viriassecrets.tumblr.com/post/115497493917/sometimes-iwa-gets-very-determined-and-oikawa), so I'll go ahead and make it a gift!
> 
> I said I would write something about it, and I finally got around to it!

It’s one of those days, where the sun hides behind thick grey clouds, the rain drizzles across rooftops. Oikawa hates grey skies and rainy days.He hates them because the clouds are thick, and dark, and all the lighting is wrong, so that blows away any chances of him breaking out his sketchbook or canvases. He can't stand rainy days because there's nowhere to go, so he sits inside the apartment and bundles up in blankets, trying to cope with movies and games, maybe food. Sometimes those aren't enough to ease his boredom.

A bored Oikawa is difficult to deal with.

“Iwa-chan, I'm bored,” Oikawa sighs, rolling back on his heels and nudging against the dark brunet's shoulder.

“Watch a movie.”

“I already did that.”

“Play a game.”

“Did that, too.”

Iwaizumi turns around and watches Oikawa trudge over to the bed, flopping down on it, driving his face into the pillow. “I hate the rain.”

“You always say that,” Iwaizumi puffs, tapping his pencil against his temple. He peeks over at Oikawa, seeing him sprawled out across the mattress, wearing a pair of his drawstring shorts and one of Iwaizumi's shirts. He likes the way Oikawa looks in his long sleeves; they hang a bit loose in all the right places, revealing collarbones when his arms are down, and hipbones when he raises them.

Currently, Iwaizumi has a great view of long legs and the cute dimples in the small of Oikawa's back, and while he should be focusing on a term paper, he could argue that such a thing is absolutely impossible when Oikawa looks this good, and is this close to him. “Hey, have you ever tried saying my first name?” Iwaizumi blurts, and the thought jumps out of his subconscious only after he's posed the question. He wonders what it would sound like on Oikawa's lips.

“That's a really random question,” Oikawa pulls his head up from the pillow and looks up at Iwaizumi, lips pushed out in a thoughtful pout.

“You've always called me Iwa-chan, I think.”

“It sounds weird when you say it,” Oikawa wrinkles his nose, “so boring.”

“What? Asshole, it's my own name!”

“Yeah, but you gotta say it with feeling, y'know? Like,” Oikawa tilts his head and grins, “ _Iwa-chan!”_

Iwaizumi stays silent, but he'll admit that the nickname sounds much better on Oikawa's lips over his. Which only further adds to his idea that his first name would sound incredible. “Say it,” he demands.

“Say what?”

“My first name.”

Oikawa's smile fades, and he looks over at Iwaizumi's desk full of homework, before he shrugs his shoulders and turns his head, dropping it back onto the pillow. “No thanks.”

“Wha—hey! What the hell was that, Assikawa?!”

“I don't wanna,” Oikawa murmurs.

Iwaizumi is about to flip a pencil at the top of his head, but he notices a slight blooming of color on the portion of Oikawa's cheek—the portion he can see—and it dawns on him that Oikawa might actually be embarrassed to use his first name. Normally Iwaizumi would normally leave it be; Oikawa isn't ready, that's okay.

But some part of Iwaizumi decides that he has a way to sate Oikawa's boredom, and earn himself a nice treat all in the same instance. Something devilish swirls in his abdomen, and he pushes back from his chair, motioning towards the brunet beside him. “Oikawa, I'm gonna take a break.”

Oikawa is unmoving even as the bed shifts, up until he feels the familiar touch of Iwaizumi's fingers padding underneath the fabric of his shirt, moving it out of the way. Oikawa gives a beatific sigh, feeling thumbs knead down the path of his shoulder blades, then alongside the ridges of his spine, before they stop at the base of his tailbone.

“Normally I have to ask for a massage like this,” Oikawa says through a haze of bliss and relaxation. He hums when a pair of lips press a kiss at the lowest point of his back.

“Don't get used to it,” Iwaizumi purrs, and the gentle, butterflying kisses travel upwards, warm against warm skin, following nimble thumbs and leaving a tingle against Oikawa's nerves. Iwaizumi stops at the back of Oikawa's neck and breathes out, smirking when tiny goosebumps make themselves apparent across Oikawa's skin. “Like that?” He asks, low in Oikawa's ear, chuckling when he's answered with a nod and something of a whimper.

Iwaizumi's hands travel to the sides now, and Oikawa gives a little shake of laughter as he breezes across his ribcage, but the chuckling ebbs out when those hands slide along the contours of his abdomen, before reaching up to the excited peaks on his chest. He sucks in a breath, sharp, turning his face into the pillow and groaning. “Don't hide,” Iwaizumi nuzzles into Oikawa's messy curls, the pads of his fingers drawing, moving in slow, lazy circles against his nipples.

“I-Iwa-chan,” Oikawa gasps.

“Roll over,” Iwaizumi commands, and Oikawa complies almost eagerly, flipping onto his back. Iwaizumi takes a good look at the blush dusted across Oikawa's cheeks, the way his own shirt looks rumpled up over his chest, his shorts hanging low and exposing those delicious hipbones. An eyebrow quirks and his lips pull into a smirk when he sees quite the bulge beneath a deep maroon shorts.

“What do you want, Oikawa?”

Oikawa holds still, chewing on his bottom lip in anticipation. All of Iwaizumi is right in front of him and willing, and all he has to do is ask? The dark brunet leans down and kisses Oikawa slow, thumbing across hipbones as he rolls his shorts down for a better feel. He draws a moan right out of Oikawa's throat, raw and unexpected when he ruts their hips together, hissing at the contact.

Honestly, with as good as Iwaizumi feels, Oikawa could come just like this, trapped beneath him, rutting clothed erections and lazily rolling tongues together. But they both crave more, and Oikawa is willing to do anything to get Iwaizumi's mouth on him in more ways than one.

“T-touch. Touch me.”

“I am.”

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whines, “you know what I mean.”

“Spell it out for me, Oikawa, tell me _exactly_ what you want,” Iwaizumi dips down and begins his attack on Oikawa's throat, his open mouthed, hot kisses turning into reddish purple bites that could tell a nice story, lengthy too, from the amount Iwaizumi is leaving.

Oikawa can barely think, but he manages to squeeze out his demand before Iwaizumi completely turns him to mush. “Touch my cock,” he bites, and slams his eyes shut, refusing to look at whatever smug expression Iwaizumi has on his face.

Relief, and a whole lot of excitement causes Oikawa to tense when one of Iwaizumi's hands leaves his hip and massages him through his shorts. “Like this?”

“No shorts! You're teasing too much!”

“Sorry sorry, you're just so cute like this,” Iwaizumi presses a kiss beneath Oikawa's eye. “Sit up for me, yeah?”

Oikawa nods, and he lifts his hips to let Iwaizumi tug him out of his shorts. He then scoots back against the headboard, his hips wriggling as Iwaizumi leaves him for a moment to grab the deep purple bottle from the bedside drawer. He comes back and parts Oikawa by the knees, folds his legs over his lap and nestles himself flush against the back of Oikawa's thighs.

He looks down, seeing Oikawa's cock lie heavy against the flat of his stomach, and he glides his tongue across his bottom lip, reaching forward and encasing his slick fingers around the base of the shaft. “It hasn't been that long, has it?” Iwaizumi asks, watching Oikawa's cock twitch beneath his hand from just the touch.

“N-no, I'm just...” Oikawa hesitates to admit how turned on he is. That normally makes Iwaizumi drag out the teasing that much more, and Oikawa isn't sure if he'll survive another one of Iwaizumi's torturous orgasm denials, even if they are the most mind shattering of all.

Iwaizumi starts slow, pumping from base to tip, swirling his thumb over the head and smearing any beads of pre-come that make themselves present. He's done this enough to know what Oikawa likes, quick and fast around the tip, slow and strong around the base. Oikawa keens when Iwaizumi twists his wrist, throwing his head back against the headboard with a loud _clunk_ sound.

“I-Iwa-chan, faster, more,” Oikawa gasps out. He can feel it building in the lowest part of his belly, a low flame that grows hotter and wilder as Iwaizumi's hand moves faster. Oikawa is foolish for assuming Iwaizumi might actually listen to him, and he lets out a strangled moan when Iwaizumi's hand stops, squelching his orgasm by fisting around the base.

“N-no! Iwa-chan, that's mean... _please_!” Oikawa tries to rock against his hand, but Iwaizumi is unyielding. He licks into Oikawa's mouth and draws out another whine as his free thumb stimulates his cock head. “Ah! Iwa-chan! S-Stop! I'm—too much! _Iwa-chan!”_

“Tell me, Tooru,” Iwaizumi whispers, ceasing all movement again, watching Oikawa slump back against the headboard and catch his breath. Oikawa's eyes go wide, pupils blown and jaw slacked when he hears his name on Iwaizumi's lips, heavy and slicked with lust. “Tell me what you want, and I'm all yours.”

“Fuck me,” Oikawa doesn't even hesitate. Any embarrassment or attempt at being somewhat collected goes out the window. Iwaizumi loves getting Oikawa to this point, where he's completely pliant and willing, eyes glassy and lips swollen and he'll do just about anything to reach that mind blowing orgasm that leaves him sated for days, rejuvenating him to a point where he looks radiant, glowing, all from Iwaizumi's doing.

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes, Iwa-chan, _yes._ Right now,” Oikawa circles his arms around Iwaizumi's neck.

“You can't come yet.”

“O-okay,” Oikawa turns his attention to controlling his limbs, even glaring down at his member, stiff in Iwaizumi's hands, willing for him not to fail him. The action is really cute, so cute that Iwaizumi almost forgets everything and drops his pants. Almost.

“Tooru, do something for me.”

“Anything,” Oikawa nods.

“Say my name.”

Oikawa stares at him in disbelief, and he would almost be upset that Iwaizumi used this kind of underhanded tactic, if only his boyfriend didn't leave him on the brink of collapsing from overstimulation. “I wanna hear it,” Iwaizumi croons, and Oikawa tenses up when he feels a slick finger circle around his hole.

He buries his fingers deep into Iwaizumi's hair, the other hand clutching tight onto his shirt. “I want to hear you say it, Tooru.”

“That's embarrassing. I can't do it.”

Iwaizumi presses pleading kisses against Oikawa's neck, starting to stroke him slowly as he enters a finger, almost up to the knuckle. Oikawa groans, hips stuttering and shifting against Iwaizumi's hand. “Please, for me, babe.”

“That's not fair,” Oikawa hisses, more out of the feeling of a second finger parting him open, and a thumb sliding along the underside of his shaft. He contemplates the downside of him resisting to say Iwaizumi's name. He won't get to come. Iwaizumi might just be that evil and deny him an orgasm completely, leaving him hungry and unsatisfied. He could be that cruel if he wanted to.

Three fingers in and Oikawa is near drooling.

“Ask me, use my name. Say it when I kiss you, say it when I fuck you.”

Oikawa cries out when Iwaizumi vibrates his hand from the wrist. It's pure bliss to his prostate and makes him clench hard, begging for those fingers to be replaced with Iwaizumi's girth. “Hajime... Hajime! Please, fuck me, _please,”_ Oikawa finally says it, and he knows he's probably red from head to toe, but he'd rather go through with this than miss out on having Iwaizumi fuck him senseless into the mattress.

Iwaizumi's composure breaks. It sounds like music to his ears, even better than the ways he imagined it. He withdraws his fingers and flops Oikawa down onto his back. He's never undressed faster, and Oikawa has never been more eager until now, watching Iwaizumi lube up his cock with a few strokes.

Somewhere, a _yes_ jumps out of Oikawa's throat involuntarily as Iwaizumi hovers over him, prodding at his entrance and holding his hips flat against the bed. “Say it again,” Iwaizumi demands, and he hears it again, whiny and silvery, perfect on Oikawa's lips, in Oikawa's voice. He seats himself full to the hilt, watching the air get punched from Oikawa's lungs and all of the tension in his body dissipate.

He draws his nails along the back of Oikawa's thigh, hiking it up over his shoulder and driving his hips forward. Iwaizumi creates a rhythm, changing it whenever Oikawa's voice reaches a new peak of desperation, a new indication that he's growing closer to his climax. He reaches for Oikawa's shaft, but the brunet bats him away. “You wanna come from just your ass?” Iwaizumi chuckles, “you're enjoying this too much.”

“You're the one... who riled me up,” Oikawa retorts. “Hajime... make me come.”

Oikawa does this thing subconsciously, where he gets the most erotic expressions without even meaning to, and he taunts, and Iwaizumi is pretty sure now that he doesn't do it on purpose, he's just really that horny, but it does no favors for either of them, or maybe it does them a lot of favors, but just those few words on that blissed out expression and Iwaizumi's hips snap forward and set a whole new pace.

“Fuck, you feel so good, Tooru,” Iwaizumi grinds out, and some part of him feels himself slipping when he hears Oikawa cry out.

“Hajime, Hajime! Right there, there, don't stop!”

“Not a chance.”

He looks down, watching his cock disappear hurriedly, erratically inside of Oikawa, and he looks back up at the brunet, knowing he's hit him just in the right place when the litany of grunts and moans become garbled and strangled in a frenzy of trying to keep grips on gravity. “Come, Tooru. I've got you,” Iwaizumi's voice wavers, feeling his orgasm teeter at the edge.

“ _Hajime,”_ Oikawa gasps, like it's the only word he knows, the only word he should know, and suddenly it's bubbling over his lips again, lost in some kind of scream as his climax drenches over him, apocalyptic. He shoots white hot across his chest and stomach, and Iwaizumi pins him to the bed and rolls his hips, fucks him all the way through his orgasm, kissing his moans silent and lacing his fingers through his hair. Iwaizumi follows him shortly after, hips jerking and cock spilling hot and fervent inside of Oikawa.

Oikawa can't think, his mind is blank, save for the one word on his lips, the name belonging to the one guy who can mess him up the most, the only one allowed to mess him up like this. He lies there in nothing but euphoria, welcoming Iwaizumi as he pulls out. Their cocks slide together as he shifts, and Oikawa lets out a cry, weakly batting Iwaizumi away. The hyper stimulation is too much right now.

“I should be mad at you,” Oikawa breathes through a yawn, feeling fatigue wash over him, “that's foul play.”

Iwaizumi laughs softly towards the ceiling. “Sorry, but it really is fitting. I don't mind my nickname, though.”

“I'll try using it, more often,” Oikawa shrugs, “if you like, I mean.”

“Yeah? Would you?”

“You called me Tooru,” Oikawa's lips curve into a small smile, “I like the way it sounds.”

Iwaizumi can't decide if he loves or hates this Oikawa. The bashful one, the one that suddenly becomes shy in admitting feelings, that hides his blush or his innocent little smiles behind his hands. He loves him, because it's one of the most adorable fucking things he's ever seen. He hates him, because it's another part of Oikawa that he's absolutely weak to.

“Shit, you're really going to be the death of me,” Iwaizumi grumbles.

“I could say the same to you, _Hajime.”_

  
  


 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, go cleanse yourselves with some cute fluff
> 
> Reach me at my [tumblr](fukuchan.god.jp) or my [twitter](twitter.com/tendousatori)


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